


Growing Pains

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 18:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: Annie acquires a pot plant to brighten up the kitchen.  George and Mitchell are less keen.





	Growing Pains

George took a deep breath as he walked through the door. “What is that smell?”

“It’s not a smell!” Annie came bouncing in from the kitchen on tiptoes, looking pleased. “It’s a fragrance. Come and see.”

George contemplated the red flower in the white ceramic pot without enthusiasm. “It smells like blood.” 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Annie insisted. “She’s a flower. She’s got a lovely flowery scent.” 

“It really does smell of blood,” Mitchell said from behind George. “Must be the compost. Where did it come from?”

“I found her on the doorstep. One of the neighbours must have left her. Probably because of the thing the other day.” 

Mitchell looked at it, frowning. ”Some flowers smell of dead things, to attract flies.” Annie wrinkled her nose, not particularly keen on the notion of flies in her kitchen.

“It doesn’t smell of dead meat, it smells very definitely of blood,” George insisted. “And it’s a begonia. They don’t attract flies. They don’t generally smell at all.” 

“How do you know it’s a begonia,” Mitchell asked. “I didn’t know you did flowers.”

“I don’t ‘do’ flowers,” George said stiffly. “But my mother liked begonias. I bought them for Mother’s Day. I suppose you didn’t ‘do’ Mother’s Day.”

“There were many deprivations in my childhood compared to a modern day upbringing,” Mitchell said, “But the absence of American commercial festivals is one I don’t find myself regretting.” 

“I’m calling her Scarlett,” Annie said, more cheerfully. “Because of Gone with the Wind.” 

“It’s more crimson, wouldn’t you say?” George appealed to Mitchell.

“Definitely crimson,” Mitchell agreed.

“Scarlett,” Annie insisted. “And she’s staying.” 

Scarlett the crimson begonia flourished on Annie’s love, devotion, water and carefully measured doses of indoor plant food. Scarlett also seemed to flourish on the weedkiller that George dripped into her pot every so often when Annie was distracted.

Mitchell didn't seem to interact with the plant at all, but every so often one of the others would come into the kitchen to find him staring intently at the fiery red blossoms on the window sill and it would be a second or two before he would respond to anything they said. 

 

“So that's settled. Ghosts don't have a sense of smell,” George said a few evenings later as they were watching TV in the sitting room. 

“I certainly do!” Annie insisted. “Scarlett has a lovely fragrance.” 

“Describe it then,” George demanded, a little belligerently. 

“Well, it's orangey. And maybe a bit mintish. With just a faint hint of rose petals?”

“You're making it up,” Mitchell said from his spot deep in the sofa cushions. “We're calling your bluff, Annie. George put one of those plug in air fresheners behind the sofa yesterday and this house now stinks of nothing but a really horrible artificial lavender. Throw it out, George, or I'll do it.” 

“It covers the awful smell,” George pointed out.” And I'm sure it's not just the compost. Something is wrong with that plant.” 

“I'd rather smell blood than lavender,” Mitchell retorted. 

“Well yes. I imagine it's rather like the scent of fresh coffee in the morning to a vampire. But I happen to hate it.” 

“Maybe I can't actually smell anything,” Annie conceded. “But I can imagine what fragrance Scarlett should have and it's not blood! Why would she smell nasty when she's so beautiful?” 

“Good question,” Mitchell said. “And I suspect the answer has very little to do with the sort of begonias that George's mum likes. You ought to get rid of it, Annie.” 

“It's a her,” Annie said. “And she's staying. We've bonded.” 

“Have you indeed?” Mitchell said. “Interesting. And University Challenge is starting.” 

 

When Annie checked behind the sofa the next day, there was no sign of an air freshener. She was delighted to see that Scarlett had put out another flower bud overnight and a new leaf was uncurling. The leaves of the plant had already flowed well out of the confines of the pot and were covering half the windowsill in a mass of green from which a full eight stalks of flowers protruded.

The next morning, however, one of Scarlett’s leaves was slightly brown. By lunchtime four leaves were affected and the first one was curled around itself, colourless and paper thin. Annie was beside herself with worry. She tried the plant food but Scarlett just looked browner. When the doorbell went, Annie didn’t even look out of the window, She was consumed with guilt and despair.

As the front door opened she did look round. It was Owen. Owen! She waited for the usual rush of love and desperation, but all she could think about was Scarlett’s plight. Maybe Owen could help. He didn’t know anything about plants as far as she knew, but she had to try something. She called him softly and he looked around, puzzled.

“What the hell have they been cooking?” he said aloud. “It smells like a slaughterhouse in here.” He took three steps into the kitchen and Annie faded through the wall into the living room. There was a noise; there were more noises, shouts and screams. Annie stood by the door and waited, without looking in.

When everything had been quiet for a while she peered round the door and was hugely relieved to see that Scarlett looked completely recovered. Annie picked up the clothes and packed them nearly away in the spare chest upstairs then cleaned the kitchen floor with great vigour. By the time the boys came back everything was lovely and neat again. 

 

“Joss sticks?” Mitchell said with disdain. “What are we, students?”

“Because you didn’t like the air freshener, “ George pointed out. “Or I could just throw that horrible plant out.”

“No you can’t!” Annie insisted. “Scarlett belongs here! She’s my only company when you two are out.”

“I suppose you’d better try the joss sticks then,” Mitchell said unenthusiastically. “Thought if I stink of them at work I don’t know what people are going to think.”

“If you stink of that plant they are seriously going to start wondering if you’re a vampire,” George said.

“Not funny.” Mitchell stalked out. 

“Is something wrong with Mitchell?” Annie asked as the vampire disappeared upstairs yet again.

“It’s probably the smell,” George said. “It must be a bit like the scent of bacon when you’re a vegetarian.”

Annie didn’t enquire any further. Instead she went back into the kitchen to polish Scarlett’s beautiful leaves.

The leaves weren’t the problem next day, however. Instead Annie was horrified to discover that Scarlett’s gorgeous red flowers were wilting. One petal was even lying detached on the kitchen floor. She sat by the windowsill all day, murmuring encouragement but nothing seemed to help. By the time the doorbell went she was pacing up and down the kitchen, tears streaming from her eyes. 

The bell went again and she wiped her face and opened the front door to a rather cheerful looking policeman who seemed to have no trouble in seeing her.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Is there anyone at home who is a bit more... corporeal?” he asked.

“No. Just me.” She gave him a bit of a hard stare, thinking that it wasn’t entirely polite to point out her non corporeal status. 

“Just the little ghost, “ he mused. “You look upset about something. Someone walked over your grave, maybe?”

“What do you want?” she said rather sharply. 

“I’d like to come in. Would you like to invite me in, little shade?” 

Annie caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. Vampire! She told herself that she was a ghost. Vampires couldn’t hurt her. For a moment she thought about closing the door in his face but then she remembered Scarlett.

“Do please come in,” she said politely, moving out of his way in case he tried to walk through her.

This time when he smiled he was all vampire. “Thank you. I will. “ He stepped over the threshold. “Poor Mitchell. Betrayed by a stupid apparition. Don’t you know that I can come and go as I please now? He has no refuge here.” 

He lifted his head, sniffing. “I really didn’t expect that delightful fragrance. Has Mitchell fallen off the wagon or has the doggie brought his bones home?” He moved as if tugged towards the kitchen door. Annie watched him enter. 

The noises went on for much longer this time. Annie watched the clock, concerned about how long it would take to clean up. In the end she was still scrubbing down the last of the cupboard doors when Mitchell came back but he went straight upstairs without more than a cursory word of greeting. There really was something bothering him, she thought, and made him an extra nice mug of tea when she’d finished the cleaning. 

For the next week Scarlett’s petals gleamed as beautiful as ever, her leaves a glossy variegated green. Mitchell seemed much better tempered. George bought a variety of colourful joss stick holders and put them around the house, sticks smouldering. Annie started making petit fours to express her happiness.

Then shortly before the boys were due home one day Annie found Scarlett lying drooping on the windowsill instead of upright. All the leaves and flowers were as flat as if the plant had had no water for days. 

“Not now!” Annie said, almost sharply, to Scarlett. “I haven’t got any way to help before the others get back. Can’t you hang on till tomorrow?”

Scarlett hung limp over the edge of her pot expressively. It hurt Annie to look at her but she had no idea what to do. She took a quick look out on the street but it was empty. 

“I can’t help you this time,” she pleaded with Scarlett. “I haven’t got what you need. Just try a bit to be better and I promise I’ll sort out something tomorrow.” 

Scarlett managed somehow to slump even further down the windowsill, and the front door opened.

“Annie?” George called. “That smell’s worse, you know. Can’t you keep the joss sticks burning while we’re out?”

He appeared at the kitchen door. “Annie? What’s wrong?”

She jumped up. “Don’t come in here, George!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Oh, you’ve been baking again!” He wandered in and picked up a petit four. “These are rather... erk!”

When Mitchell came in a couple of minutes later Annie was curled up on the sofa weeping and noises of combat were coming from the kitchen

“What the hell?” he demanded abruptly and headed for the door.

“Don’t!” Annie said, disappearing and reappearing in front of him. “Don’t go in there as well!”

He said something extremely impolite and ran straight through her, something he knew how much she hated. A moment later he reappeared dragging George behind him.

George was bleeding from long scratches on his face and arms and his clothes were torn.

“Your pot plant tried to eat me!” he said to Annie, his voice high with accusation. 

“I did tell you not to go in the kitchen,” she said.

“Yes, and I thought you wanted to, I don’t know, surprise me with your baking or something. You didn’t tell me your begonia wanted to kill me!” 

“It won’t do, you know, Annie.” Mitchell said. “I know how fond you are of it but George needs to be able to use the kitchen without getting ripped apart by a murderous plant.” 

“Maybe if you two could just stay out of the kitchen tonight? I’m sure she’ll be better behaved tomorrow.” Annie suggested.

“She has to go, Annie,” Mitchell said gently.

“Yes!” George said, his voice still high. “She definitely has to go!”

Annie wrapped her arms around herself unhappily but she couldn’t argue. After all she really didn’t know how she was going to keep Scarlett happy long term. It wasn’t as if that many people ever knocked on the door. “All right,” she said. 

“I’ll deal with her,” Mitchell said. “I promise I’ll be very humane.”

“She’ll eat you,” Annie sniffed.

“Very few things eat vampires,” Mitchell said confidently.

“Scarlett does,” Annie’s voice was quiet.

He looked at her. “And how do you know that?”

Annie took an unnecessary breath. “There was a vampire policeman at the door. He was very impolite to me.”

“Policeman?” Mitchell was staring at her. “Are you trying to tell me that your begonia ate Herrick? When was this?”

“A week ago.” 

He shook his head, unbelieving. “The local vampires are in complete disarray. They’ve turned the town over looking for him. One of the most powerful vampires in the area doesn’t just disappear. And Scarlett ate him?”

She nodded. 

“Who else has she eaten?”

“Owen,” Annie said even more quietly. “She really was very hungry. It wasn’t her fault.”

“Your plant has eaten our landlord?” George wasn’t sounding any calmer.

“He was my fiancé,” she retorted. “That’s a bit more important than your landlord!” 

“Anyone else?” Mitchell asked.

“No!” 

“Well, that’s good!” George said. “Just the two people murdered horribly then. How are we going to get rid of it?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Annie said. 

She came out of the kitchen half an hour later with a large carrier bag bulging with plant stalks and leaves. George and Mitchell flattened themselves against the opposite wall.

“What are you going to do with it?” George demanded.

“I thought I’d put her in the green recycling bin,” Annie said. “They collect tomorrow, and I can put a brick on the lid until then.”

“And what if she eats the refuse collectors? We have to ..” he dropped his voice, mouthing the words,“kill it!” 

“We’re not heroes,” Mitchell said. “It’s not our job to rid the world of dangerous things. Scarlett can take her chances out there like everything else. I just don’t want her living in my kitchen.” 

Scarlett got dropped in the bin outside, Annie murmuring a quick “sorry!” as her pot hit the bottom. George insisted on an entire pyramid of bricks to keep the lid down. Next morning Annie took them all off as soon as the others had gone off to work, and peered down into the bowels of the wheelie bin. Scarlett was no longer there. 

“Oh well, “ she thought. “Probably for the best,” and she teleported back into the kitchen to make a fresh mug of tea just in case Mitchell or George made an unscheduled appearance.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt "Killer Plants" at Apocabingo.


End file.
